


Thallium

by Araes (AlastorGrim)



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Alien Lore, Almighty Tallest Zim (Invader Zim), Angst, BAMF Dib Membrane, Competent Zim, Consorts & Concubines, Cool Space Stuff, Eventual Smut, Identity Porn, Incest, Irken Empire, Made-Up Science, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Multi, The Resisty Resisting Against the Irken Empire (Invader Zim), Zim Wins AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:21:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24783028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlastorGrim/pseuds/Araes
Summary: After what seemed like a cosmically fated friendship coming to life, Zim ruins it all by destroying Earth and taking Dib with him away from the wreckage. Fortunately, Professor Membrane and Gaz managed to escape as well.Years pass by, and as the Professor searches for his children, he crashlands onto an unknown planet and meets a mechanic called Thallium. He looks oddly familiar...Too bad the new Irken Tallest has him on averyshort leash.
Relationships: Dib/Professor Membrane, Dib/Zim (Invader Zim)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 79





	1. Prologue: Murphy's Law

**Author's Note:**

> *bitchslaps this here because I'm trash* :D

"Get off--Get _off of me_ \--ZIM!" Dib screamed as he fought the little Irken viciously from his spot pinned to the Voot floor. Zim was looming over him with a dark expression on his face, PAK legs threatening to slice off Dib's hands entirely as the human beneath him struggled against them.

"No," Zim uttered simply, mouth twisted down and brow furrowed. "You will try to jump out of the Voot again. We have gone too high--the Dib won't survive the trip down. Besides, there will be nothing to return to soon."

Dib let out a gutteral yell and folded his legs up to plant his boots into Zim's stomach and launch Zim off of him. Zim went flying back across the ship and smacked into the vents with a surprised grunt. Dib scrambled to his feet and lunged for the console near the windshield, grasping the joystick and jerking it forward. The automatic rising function stuttered to a halt and the Voot started to bolt down towards the mirage of blue and green beneath them. "You son of a bitch, I won't let you do this! You destroy Earth, then you can kill me right along with--"

_BOOM._

The rest of Dib's sentence was cut off by the biggest explosion he'd ever seen in his entire life, a blast of heat and light slamming into the Voot and sending it flying upwards once more. It tumbled through the atmosphere into the blackness of space around them, spinning violently and slinging Dib against a wall so hard that he upchucked bile all over the metal floors. Groaning weakly even as the Voot slowed to a stop and Zim's panicked shrieking died down, Dib collapsed to the floor in a disoriented heap. 

Vision spinning, Dib clawed his way back up the wall just in time for Zim to grab hold of him again. Before them, in a roiling ball of blackening color and flames, was Earth. It had been cracked apart from the inside, Earth's molten core pouring out in all directions and hanging in odd shapes as gravity ceased to exist. 

Nothing could have survived that. Earth was gone.

Dib _screamed_ , scrabbling for the controls again even as Zim pulled him back away from it, shouting something to the Computer that Dib couldn't hear over the rush of blood in his ears. 

" _ **NO**_ \--NO," he screeched, tasting blood at the back of his throat. He scratched his nails across Zim's arms, flailing wildly. "You son of a _bitch_ , you-- _you_! Fucking TRAITOR! I thought we were _friends_ , you fucking--" Dib roared even as tears blurred his vision. He choked on his next words and sobbed helplessly even as he kicked and slammed his fists into Zim's side. "LET GO OF ME! LET ME DIE, YOU FUCKER! Let...let me die with the rest of them..." Dib's voice slowly petered out as a monumental wave of _loss_ crashed over him, and his face scrunched up as he coughed out another sob, unable to see more than blurry colors for the tears in his eyes. 

"You will be fine, Dib-thing," Zim murmured as he climbed something that hadn't been there before and hooked something around Dib's waist. He set Dib down and stepped back, wary. 

But Dib didn't move. He stayed where Zim had placed him, blinking his eyes clear and staring blankly out at the wreckage of his home planet. Zim shivered, unnerved. Dib looked up at him slowly, expression suddenly, terribly empty. 

Zim stepped forward and shut the stasis chamber, sliding the glass closed and pressing the button to fill it up with containment fluid. "There are other planets. Better planets. Zim will show them to you, Dib. I promise you. Soon Earth will be nothing more than a bland memory of how horrible your life was before you met the wonderful Zim!"

Dib stared up at him, that wretched, empty look still marring his face. Zim's antennae vibrated. Dib's lips parted, tears spilling over his lashes to trace the line of his mouth. Dib didn't flinch. " _How could you?_ "

Then green liquid flooded the tank and Dib was suspended inside it, eyes fluttering shut as a few last bubbles of oxygen floated up from his mouth. Zim's eyes widened and he stared at the tank with an open, hysterical expression. Then he blinked, and his eyes hardened once more. He placed a hand against the glass and growled, already missing Dib's voice.

"Zim didn't have a choice."

There was no response. It was...unsettling. Zim turned abruptly away from Dib's tank and stalked towards the console. "Computer!"

" **What now?** "

"Set a course for Irk." Zim stepped up to the driver's seat and retrieved GIR from behind it. He stroked over the robot's dark, lifeless oculars and grit his teeth at the silence of the cabin. "We're going home."

•⚙️•

Professor Membrane sat up from where he'd been knocked down in the blast, his prototype not having got out of the atmosphere fast enough to avoid the explosion entirely. He coughed ash from his throat and scrubbed dust from his face. He blinked widely down at the destruction of Earth and felt his heart sink. "Oh..."

Earth had been blown to pieces, stuck together only by a few strands of magma plastered to each piece, like thinning strings glue. No one could have survived that.

He was merely fortunate that he'd taken an interest in the vehicle clogging his garage. He had found its design interesting, and wondered if he could improve upon it. He had, of course, but he had never tried to actually test it for ability to last in space. Primarily because he had never had a need to enter space and it would only encourage Dib's little delusions. 

Oh. Oh, Dib. Gaz! His _children_ \--were they alright? He hadn't thought to go get them first, he hadn't had time. The device in the core was growing too rapidly and he knew he only had a limited amount of time to grab what he needed--

' _And you didn't think your kids fell into that category?_ ' a little voice in his head sneered, disdainful. ' _What if they're dead now? Dead, because of you. Because you finally found a problem you couldn't solve and you were too much of a coward to try and stay._ '

Professor Membrane flinched and clutched at his skull, gritting his teeth. "No--no! They're fine! They're my children, after all, they are incredible resourceful. They would have found a way." He lurched forward to rapidly tap his fingers over the screen, feverish. "All I have to do is find them."

' _And if they're dead?_ '

"They are not _dead_!" Professor Membrane shouted to himself, slamming his fist down into the console. An alarm flashed once through the foyer and then the entire console went dark. The Professor hissed and snatched his hand back away from it, cursing loudly. Standing for a moment in the darkness with only the dimming flares of Earth's fires for light, he clenched his fists and reached up to wrench his goggles off his face. They left a clean stripe of skin across his face.

He grabbed the box from beneath the captain's seat and flicked it open. "Gaz and Dib are fine. I just have to find them."

Pulling out the bottom drawer of the large box, the slight glow of several vials highlighted his face. He plucked one out and held it up to the light.

"No matter how long it takes."


	2. Get Your Technosphere Out of Your Ass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Eight Years Later_

A crowded, filthy bar filled with every type and color of oddly shaped beings imaginable, was filled with an especially rowdy group that night. There was yelling and laughter, the clinking of thick, cloudy mugs of booze from the sleeziest places in that side of the Xoryian quadrant. The volume of the bar only crescendoed as a figure in a ragged, grayed coat and a haphazardly made breather came bolting down the stairs from the rented rooms above, chucking a glowing green vial behind him.

It hit the dirty floor of the bar and shattered, the green substance rapidly eating through the flooring until it had created a canyon between the stairs and the rest of the bar, impossible to cross. The figure huffed and vaulted over a table next to the doors, plowing out of them and running for the parking structure down the street. He clutched at his abdomen and panted into his breather, crimson gathered in the gray near his hip.

There a chorus of angry yelling behind him, and he cursed softly as he heard footsteps stutter and resume behind him much too quickly for his tastes.

"You fucking CHEAT, Membrane! You'll pay for this!"

"You can't run forever!"

Glancing over his shoulder, he called, "Of course not! But I don't need to run forever--I just need to outrun _you_."

More furious shouting, but he had glimpsed the parking structure just beyond a pile of garbage and rusted scrap metal. Pushing himself faster and gritting his teeth at the stitch in his side, he lept up and planted his hands on the top of the trash pile, summersaulting over it and landing unsteadily on the ridge of the second story of the complex. He tried to start his rocket boots, but they spluttered and died moments later. He cursed again and raced for the stairs instead.

Plucking a brilliant red vial out of the strap across his chest, he tossed it down over the ridge, back towards his pursuers, and didn't wait to watch it explode. He powered up the four flights of stairs to the roof of the complex, then bolted for the ship sitting precariously on a corner. He pressed a button and the airlock on the side flew open for him. He hurtled inside, slamming the lock shut behind him and stumbling for the beat up dashboard. 

In seconds, he was up off the parking structure's roof and flying up towards the atmosphere. It was only once he broke through the greenish gray of the sky to the familiar black, starry expanse of space that he let out a sigh. He unclasped his breather and pulled it away from his face, heaving in a breath of cool, oxygenated air. 

Professor Membrane slumped down into the pilot's seat and slowly pulled his hand away from his side with a hiss. He pulled off his blood-stained glove slowly, then gripped the other in metal fingers to peel it off as well. He'd need to wash them as soon as possible, as the climate and general cleanliness of Detritus Major was...questionable, at best. 

Flexing silver fingers, he pulled off his coat to get a look at what he was dealing with. He examined the deep, but ultimately superficial stab wound just above his hip, and quickly concluded that it hadn't hit anything vital. It would just be tedious to deal with for a few days until he reached Detritus Minor, where he could restock and take a look at the Lab's reserves. The Lab was running low on filters as it was, and his trip to Detritus Major had been a useless endeavor as it had cost more than it had been worth. 

Professor Membrane stood and moved to the back of the cockpit, opening a compartment and removing an ever dwindling roll of gauze and tape, as well as the dregs of his healing salve. He peeked into the jar and frowned. It wouldn't be enough. He pursed his lips.

He would make do with what he had, hoping that Detritus Minor would be kinder in relinquishing supplies. 

Plopping back in the pilot's seat, the Professor awkwardly situated himself so he could see what he was doing as he smeared a thin coat of salve over the wound, then dressed it in an even thinner layer of gauze. He pulled his shirt back over it, grimacing, and set a course for Detritus Minor. It was only a day or so away, and while it wouldn't be the first time he had gone without food (he had become very well acquainted with the hollow weight of hunger in the past eight years), he would still like to at least have something in the reserves if something went wrong. As it was, he had about three nutritional bars and an odd bag of alien chips he'd bought months ago that he had never gotten hungry enough to actually eat. There was something about the flaming equine skull and crossbones on the front that left him wary enough to avoid it even when his stomach felt like it was eating itself. 

The Lab suddenly jolted and rocked violently back and forth, nearly sending him toppling into the floor as a round of laser fire roared against the hull of his ship. It couldn't pierce it, but it was enough to send the Lab spinning out of control. Professor Membrane lunged for the yoke, jerking it to the left to both stop the spinning and veer out of the way of the next barrage of attacks.

Three ships were behind him, bright yellow and sporting a rusted, squiggly insignia on the sides. It appeared his stilted customers were back. 

For the past year or so, the Professor had picked up a bit of a con in selling self-sabotaging weapons to members of various hostile groups and gangs for (what he understood to be) a ludicrous price. His latest customers, however--a gang of Quorps that called themselves the Sabbath--had anticipated the trickery and tested one of the weapons before the Professor had had a chance to leave the room. One vaporized Quorp later, and Professor Membrane was fleeing the seedy bar with his gains. 

Apparently, the Sabbath was much more persistent than the Professor would have thought. He had assumed that once he made it off planet that they would give up, as many others did. 

Obviously not.

Swerving hectically around a beam of plasma, Professor Membrane clenched his jaw and steered the Lab in the general direction of Detritus Minor. He hesitated over the warp drive for a moment, contemplating how safe this really was. He knew he couldn't outfly them, not with his ship as low on fuel as if currently was. He contemplated searching for another option. For all of a millisecond. He slammed his fist into the button just a plasma beam clipped the Lab's side again, making him lose his grip on the yoke and the Lab go spinning sideways as the Xoryian quadrant became nothing more than a blur of time and space. 

The Professor was slung back into the wall, his temple slamming into the corner of the compartment he'd foolishly left open, and everything went dark. 

•⚙️•

Professor Membrane's eyes fluttered open and he groaned as light seared into his brain, bright and painful. There was a presence near him, moving faintly the side. It paused when it heard him make noise, however. There was a shuffling sound, and then a voice. 

"Oh, you're alive! That's a relief," the voice murmured to his left, just a little above him. He felt a hand on his forehead, and on instinct he tried to snatch it away. But--his arms weren't obeying him. "Oof, um, whatever you just did? Yeah, don't do it again. I'm pretty sure these things aren't supposed to be smoking."

"What...?" the Professor croaked, eyes flickering back open to see a strange blur above him, its shadow now blocking out the harshness of the light. He blinked a few more times until his vision cleared. 

He blinked again.

Above him hovered a distinctly _human_ face, with olive skin and a nose and two ears and eyes with sclera and pupils. Five fingers smoothed over his forehead again as his eyebrows raised, and _eyebrows_ \--he didn't know he had missed looking at them so much until he was faced with another being who had them. The human was gazing down at him in curiosity, a single amber eye shining with a keen sharpness that made him feel like a specimen in a jar. The other eye was shielded by a sheet of silver hair that was slightly longer than the rest, all of it streaked through with a bright, electric blue. 

They tipped their head at Professor Membrane, cupping his face in their hands and squishing his cheeks. "You okay? You slammed pretty hard into your dashboard. Broke your, uh. Arms. And lots of other stuff that wasn't, you know, you." They paused for a moment. Then, they met his eyes through the cracked goggles. "Your ship is trashed. That's what I'm trying to say."

"Who--" the Professor coughed out, only to grit his teeth at the bolt of pain that lanced through his chest at the action. "Who are you?"

"...The Mechanic," the other said after a moment, leaning back to grab something off the surface next to them. Professor Membrane watched as the glimmering fabric across a slim chest shone in different shades of blue and green, lines of bronze curling across it in odd patterns. It ended at the Mechanic's wrists, giving way to fingerless gloves and black-painted nails. Those fingers were suddenly back on his face, hooking beneath his goggles and attempting to pull them off. The Professor wrenched his face out of his grip, and he left it alone. A bright light was shone right in his face, and he flinched away with a hiss of pain. Another hand caught his jaw to keep him still. "You took a nasty hit, Mister...?"

"Professor," he managed to grind out after a moment, blinking rapidly as the light was switched off. "Just...Professor."

"Mind if I call you Prof.? Cool," the Mechanic chirped before he could reply. He released the Professor's face. "Like I was saying Prof., you slammed into the ground pretty hard. You seem like you're mostly okay--most of the damage was to your ship--but can you tell me if anything hurts? Anything where it shouldn't be? Your species looks pretty similar to mine but I'm not going to assume just in case I kill you." He picked up a vial of crimson liquid and flicked it with a finger, pointed.

Struggling to sit up with his arms not working, Professor Membrane got halfway up before he felt the Mechanic's hands back on him. For a moment, it seemed like he was going to push the Professor back down, but instead he helped him sit up and put his back against the wall. The Mechanic rolled back on his wheeled stool when Professor Membrane swung his legs off the side of the bench he was lying on. 

Heaving in an uncertain breath, the Professor glanced up. He noted the shining bits of metal hooked into the Mechanic's ears, two more through one eyebrow and one at each side of his bottom lip. A black jacket hung off his shoulders, like some sort of short, stiff cape. 

"I assumed we were of the same species," the Professor said carefully.

The Mechanic's eyes went wide, before abruptly sharpening, hungry. He leaned forward with an excited grin, hands digging into the stool cushion so hard Professor Membrane thought he heard it rip. "Oh, really? I've never met another human before! I mean, I assume I have, but it's been a _very_ long time and I don't remember much--but _wow_! Where are you from? What was it like? Is it really a human thing to sleep because all I hear are conflicting opinions--"

Professor Membrane tried to put his hands up in surrender, but his arms just guttered and started to smoke again. It had the intended effect of shutting the Mechanic up, however.

A honey eye blinked, then zeroed sharply back in on his arms. "Right, right. Priorities." He spun away on his little stool until he hit the adjacent wall, digging his nails into a divet there and yanking something out. A long, narrow panel went shooting past the Professor, making him jolt back slightly. He jumped again when the Mechanic clicked a button on the wall next to the metal panel, and the bench he was laying on slid to meet him in the middle. Clapping his gloved hands, the Mechanic rolled back towards the Professor now that he was closer, stopping right in front of him on the other side of what the Professor could now tell was an extendable worktable. The Mechanic grinned at him. "Come on, arms up!"

Professor Membrane gave him a deadpan look. The Mechanic chuckled. Reaching forward, he grasped the Professor's left arm and heaved it up on the table between them, two bronze clasps emerging from the smooth surface to lock it in place. Then, with a tap of a finger and a glow of pink, a small case of tools slid out of a (previously invisible) compartment. 

The Professor shifted uncomfortably. "How much?"

The Mechanic's gaze snapped up abruptly, narrowed and dark, his voice gone sharp. " _What?_ "

"How much for the repairs?" Professor Membrane inquired again, brow furrowing in confusion. "You said you were a mechanic, and while I'm inclined to believe you given that you're in the process of fixing my arm, I also have a ship in need of repairs. I need to know if you're going to planet-lock me because I don't have enough to pay you. You should really make sure someone has proper funds before just starting in on things, though. Bad business practice." He gave his pinned arm a pointed look.

"Oh! Um." The Mechanic flushed, looking abruptly back down at his box of tools as he sifted through them. "My bad? And don't worry, arms are free. Your ship, on the other hand..." He sucked his teeth and gave the Professor a mischievous glance. "Well, you'd be fucked without me, is all I'm gonna say. But I might be willing to give you a species discount."

"Is that not racist?" The Professor raised an eyebrow.

The Mechanic pulled what looked like a squiggly soldering gun and a glass wrench from the box with a shrug. "Probably. But you look like you'd object to a pity discount, so I thought I'd call it something else. Here, move closer. I can't see."

Professor Membrane grunted as fingers tangled in the wires of his prosthetic and dragged it closer, the copper clasps moving across the extendable table with it. He watched as the Mechanic fiddled with screws and buttons, huffing in amusement as he jumped when the hatch on the phaser cannons sprung open. Curiosity flooded the Mechanic's face and he leaned closer to prod his tools down into the cluster of metal that was the Professor's arm. Professor Membrane tipped his head. "I don't imagine that your name is truly just 'the Mechanic'."

An amused glance was sent his way before it focused back on his arm. "What gave me away?" He paused, incredulous. "And are these _plasma cannons_?"

"Yes," the Professor gruffed, undeterred. "What's your name?"

"Why should I tell you?" the Mechanic mused slyly. The tool in his hand lit up, and suddenly all the small wires he'd been poking around morphed and coalesced into a neat braid, the fraying edges of them now covered in black, rubbery resin that certainly wasn't there before. He hummed, pleased, and put the squiggly tool away, bringing the glass wrench forward instead. "I'm giving you a lot over here, and in return I have recieved a whole bunch of jack and shit."

"...You said you had questions," the Professor began carefully.

" _Many_ ," was the quiet, intense reply, fingers tightening on the opened hatch of his arm as the Mechanic looked up at him, eyes dark. 

Professor Membrane swallowed. "Right. If you tell me your name, I will answer your questions."

The Mechanic snorted, leaning back to cross his arms. "Yeah, I don't fucking think so. I get answers first." When the Professor opened his mouth to protest, a flash of annoyance zipped through the other's face and he reached forward and jammed the wrench into something that sent a bolt of pain through the Professor's shoulder. He cried out, startled, and the Mechanic smiled, not lifting the wrench. "Yes?"

Gritting his teeth, Professor Membrane ground out a pained, "Alright!" He wheezed in relief when the pain vanished, the wrench replaced in its case, purpose apparently served. He glared at the Mechanic, who was no longer looking at him, instead rummaging around in something beside his stool. "You," the Professor heaved as his other arm sparked with instinctive twitches to grab his sore shoulder. "Are far more vicious than you seem."

A small, pleased grin was the only response he received.

Placing a squat, pink jar on the table next to his tool kit, the Mechanic leaned forward again, another tool in his hand. This one was about the size of a quarter, black and glassy, and he slipped it between the slats of the Professor's arm like it was a gumball machine. There was a clink, and then he whole arm jolted and began to buzz, flickering blue lines and buttons glowing up at him once more. Not fully online, but operational. 

"First things first," the Mechanic began easily, flicking the jar with a black nail and nodding to himself. "How'd you crash?"

"I was being chased. I was previously on Detritus Major and didn't know I was being persued until it was too late."

The Mechanic's gaze snapped to his, surprised. "Detritus? But that's..." He trailed off, brow furrowing. After a moment, he shook his head. "Nevermind. Whoever was chasing you definitely isn't going to find you here, though. Small mercies." Getting back to work on the Professor's prosthetic, he asked, "Where'd you get your ship?" 

Something in his voice made Professor Membrane's hackles raise, wary. "Why?"

"Because it's an utter trash heap--and _I_ am the one asking the questions here, _Professor_." 

"How many questions are you going to ask before you allow me to get some answers of my own?" the Professor retorted sourly, growing irritated. 

Eyes narrowing, the Mechanic uttered, "As many as I fucking want--"

A door on the other side of the room burst open and an alien with green oculars and a bent antennae--Irken, he remembered with a flash of resentment--poked their head into the room. "We really need to know where to put this thing, Thallium, it can't just sit there."

The Mechanic slammed his tool kit shut and whirled on the Irken. "Dammit, Luka! Knock!"

"Thallium?" the Professor mused, smug. 

" _Damn it_ \--" A strangled growl burst from his fellow human's throat, frustration visibly mounting as he scrubbed a hand down his face in exasperation.

"Uh..." the Irken in the doorway uttered, looking back and forth between the two of them in confusion. "Am I interrupting?"

"Yes, Luka!" the Mechanic--Thallium--barked, glaring at him. "Yes, you are. Please get the fuck out." He brandished a finger towards the door and the Irken hastily backed off, shutting the door behind it. 

As if able to physically feel Professor Membrane's vindicated smile, Thallium whirled on him with a scowl. He affected an innocent expression, though most of his face was still covered and Thallium probably wouldn't be able to tell. "What were you saying, again? About my trash heap ship?"

Thallium's eyes narrowed and he curled his fingers around the Professor's arm once more. "Okay, wise guy. Need I remind you that I'm currently your only chance of getting off this planet and on your merry way without dying?"

Professor Membrane raised an eyebrow. "How is that?"

Blinking widely, Thallium abruptly unclasped his arm and shoved it off the table, a demure, ditzy look overtaking his face. "Oh, well then, you clearly don't need my help," he chirped, grinning sweetly when the useless hunk of metal smacked harshly into the Professor's lap, making him wheeze. Thallium stood and began to waltz off towards the door. "I obviously have no idea what I'm doing--you can take care of that all by yourself! I'm sure having _no fucking hands_ to work with won't hinder you in the least!"

"Wait," Professor Membrane ground out after a moment, pained. Thallium paused by the door, glancing over his shoulder at him, gaze obscured by that shining length of silver hair. Working his jaw, the Professor swallowed roughly. He closed his eyes and sighed. "I apologize. That was...rude of me. Please, help me."

Thallium turned to face him completely, eye searching. After a moment, his face lost some of it's sharpness and he smirked. He walked back over to the table slowly, slim chains at his hips jingling as he went. 

The Professor glanced down and saw that he was wearing a pair of frayed, black shorts with laces at the seams and several links of silver chains dangling off the belt loops, just a bit longer than the shorts themselves. They served no functional purpose from what Professor Membrane could see, as the suit covered everything but Thallium's hands and neck. He blinked.

There, at Thallium's throat, was a strip of dark leather. The Irken insignia, made from some sort of black metal, hung from the D-ring, settling in the dip of Thallium's collarbone. 

The mark of an Irken slave. 

"Well," Thallium said pleasantly, ripping the Professor from his darkening haze. He looked up him as Thallium leaned on the table, reaching over it to heave the metal arm out of the Professor's lap and thunk it back on the table. The clasps bolted it in place once more.

Professor Membrane gulped. 

Thallium grinned. "Let's get started."

**Author's Note:**

> Bother me [over here](https://grimalkinmessor.tumblr.com) 🖤


End file.
